Underneath the Grief
by PteraWaters
Summary: Together Angel and Spike must get through a funeral for a dear friend and find out more about the Senior Partners and their roles in the final Apocalypse. 2nd in my Angel/Spike series after "A Different Hole in the World".
1. Part 1

_A/N: Greetings fanfiction readers! Welcome to the second installment of my Angel/Spike series. If you haven't yet, you might want to read the first part "A Different Hole in the World". But if you like to walk on the wild and confusing side, go ahead and start here. I won't tell anyone, I promise._

_This first chapter is nice and angsty, but don't worry there's more smutty/adventure/fluff around the corner in the subsequent chapters of this episode. I'll be updating once a day, so you won't have to wait too long between chapters. Just long enough for that exciting feeling of anticipation, which I love coaxing out of you guys. _

_As always, feel free to tell me what you liked and what you hated. Don't worry, I'm a big girl. I can take it. Happy reading!_

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Underneath the Grief - Part 1

It had been a week since Wesley died. Even though my people and I were his true family, I ended up sending his body back to his mother in England. So when we said goodbye to Wes, I knew there was no soul to pray for and there was no body to stand in for that soul. We said goodbye to a picture of Wesley. A Goddamn picture.

I chose the picture Cordelia had taken when the three of us first started working together, cutting both of us out before giving it to Harmony. Out of the three of us in that photo, I was the only one left. The only one still existing. Harmony got the picture of Wes blown up and framed before ringing it with flowers, bright red and white, and standing it on an easel for display.

I knew it was my place to say the eulogy. Fred could barely get one word out around the sobbing. Not to mention Illyria's personality was still rattling around in her head, randomly insulting anyone she considered a lower being. Which was all of us. Gunn said he would rather not, due to some bad history between them, concerning Fred, as well as his involvement in the circumstances that led to Wesley's death. And Lorne flat-out refused, saying, "I entertain all the time, Angel-cakes. If I get up there, people will be expecting a show, and Wes deserves more than that." He was right.

I invited Giles and Buffy, but when I spoke to Giles, he said they were both in Europe and would probably go to the funeral held by Wesley's blood family. But, he said he would spread the word to the surviving Watchers that may want to attend.

We held the wake at Wes' apartment. It didn't seem right to say goodbye to him in a house of evil like Wolfram and Hart. In the place that had killed him.

It wasn't a long guest list: Fred and Gunn, both recently released from the hospital wing, me and Spike, Lorne and Harmony, a few people from Wesley's team at Wolfram and Hart, and a man who introduced himself as Derrick Green, a classmate of Wes' from the Watcher's academy. Of all the Watchers Giles contacted, only the one came.

While the wake was still getting started, I slipped away into the bedroom to try to put my thoughts together, sitting down on the bed. Here was where Wesley slept when he didn't spend the night in his office. The desk across the room was where he had written letters and read books, taking meticulous notes. And there, in the closet, were all his clothes, which he would never need again.

First Doyle, then Darla, then Cordelia, and now Wesley. How much longer until Fred and Gunn joined them? Would it be fifty years or five? Ten years or one? Less than a month? Having mortal friends was so difficult, especially with my calling. It was why I had left Buffy, twice. Not only because I couldn't give her the life she deserved, but because she had so little time, I couldn't stand to watch her die.

Spike found me after a few minutes, entering the bedroom and closing the door behind him. "Angel," he said softly as he sat down beside me. "I think they're waitin' on you."

"I know." I rested my head on his shoulder and took one of his hands in mine. At least Spike was immortal. He wouldn't grow old and he was a lot harder to kill. Not that I thought he'd still be hanging around with me in fifty years. We'd probably get sick of each other in a month. A year, maybe.  
Spike kissed the top of my head, "You alright, Peaches? Got stage fright? I'll hold your hair if you need to yak." I blew air from my nose, almost a laugh. "No? How 'bout a bit of a snog?"

"On Wes' bed? Spike, there are so many things wrong with that idea, I don't even know where to start."

"That's what makes it fun, you git." I got up and went to the door, sighing. "Maybe later, then?" he asked.

"Not here," I muttered, opening the door.

Out in the living room, everyone was milling around. Harmony flitted back and forth from the kitchen, seeing to the table of food. Gunn, Lorne, and Fred all stood together, the last of the Angel's Investigations crew. The Watcher, Green, was surreptitiously observing Lorne, who hadn't bothered hiding his demon identity.

Standing next to the picture of Wesley, I waited for everyone to sit down. Spike took a chair close to me, but off to the side, while the rest of my people sat in front with the others behind them. Spike stopped Harmony's frantic pacing and pointed her to a seat in the back. And then, everything was quiet.

I cleared my throat and began speaking. "Wesley Windham-Price was my friend. I loved him like a brother, and he will be missed.

"He was a good man, a great man. A man who always tried to do the right thing. I met him five years ago and it was obvious he hadn't quite grown into his skin. Before then, Wes had spent his life learning from books, from teachers, and not from the real world. He joined my team here in LA four years ago, a little more mature and battle-ready. Wes learned quickly what it means to be a hero, to help the helpless. I lost my way and Wesley was a good enough friend to tell me where I was going wrong and to forgive me when I came to my senses.

"Wesley was one of the most loyal men I've ever known, and I was glad to have him watching my back. He loved and was loved. He died trying to save the woman he cared about, trying to protect her. He died because he cared more about what happened to her than he cared about his own life. He was truly a champion."

I let a moment of silence go before I reached for a glass of whiskey. I raised my glass and waited for the others to do the same. "To Wesley," I said, "I know you're gone, but if in some part of some universe you're listening: May the road rise up to meet ya, may the wind always be at your back, may the sun always warm your face, and may God hold ya in the palm of his hand, wherever you are. To Wesley."

"To Wesley," everyone repeated, and we drank.

"If anyone else wants to share a memory, the floor is yours." I stepped away. As Gunn stood and faced the audience, I grabbed the whiskey bottle from the beverage table and took the seat next to Spike. He held out his empty glass and I tipped out a generous portion before refilling my own. Setting the bottle on the floor, I let my knee touch Spike's. I wanted more contact than knees touching, but I wasn't ready to tell my friends that I had been bedding Spike all week. They had only seen me with women before, never with a man, much less one who played my mortal enemy on occasion. They would ask me why, and I really didn't know. I knew I felt less lonely, less frustrated, less grief-stricken when he was around. I felt needed and wanted like I hadn't since I was with Buffy. And I certainly didn't want to explore what that meant!

"I take it," Spike whispered to me as Gunn started his story about the time Wes got shot, "this is an Irish sort of wake." He lifted his glass toward me, "Where we all get shitfaced and party until dawn."

"That's the idea," I said, emptying my glass in one swallow and refilling it again.

Spike shrugged and followed suit. "My kind o' party," he whispered with a smile, tipping his glass in my direction for another round. "Just don't be surprised if I get a little handsy after a bottle or two."

"Gotcha," I said.

"And whatever happens, do not let me sleep with Harmony." He winked at me. "The silly bird will follow me around for weeks."

Gunn finished his story and we all toasted again. Spike and I were about halfway through one bottle and I was starting to feel it a little.

"So anyone but Harmony, and I should just let you go to town?"

Lorne got up to speak next, customary Seabreeze in hand.

"God no," whispered Spike. "If I start hittin' on anyone but – no, scratch that. Don't let me hit on anyone here."

"What about if you start hitting on me?" I gave him a crooked smile, which he returned.

"Well then you're in a moral quandary, aren'cha, luv?" He leaned in to whisper in my ear, his cold breath tickling my neck. God, why did I want him so much? "Do you honor my wishes, or do you take advantage of me in my drunken stupor?" I imagined slamming him up against a wall and fucking him until he screamed my name. These were not appropriate thoughts for a funeral!

"We'll see," I whispered, pushing his face away and pointing at Lorne to get Spike to pay attention. He hummed a small satisfied noise, probably smelling how turned on I was, but he left me alone for the moment.

We both downed another two rounds and then finished off the bottle when Lorne gave his toast. As the room shuffled to accommodate the next speaker, I grabbed two more bottles. Returning to my seat, I gave Spike one and started opening the other. The Watcher stepped up to the front of the room.

He told a story about Wesley's days as Head Boy at the Watcher's Academy. I tried to listen, curious about Wes' life before I met him, but Spike giggled under his breath every time the man said 'Head Boy'. I kicked him to be quiet.

"Sorry, pet," he whispered in my ear. "No disrespect meant. It's just such a ridiculously funny phrase."

"If you can shut up until everyone's done speaking, I'll make it worth your while."

"Yeah?" he asked, giving me a curious sort of smile.

"Yeah." I took a long swallow from the bottle and turned my attention back to the Watcher. Spike rested his arm on the back of my chair and brushed his knuckles up and down over the back of my arm. I was grateful for the contact, feeling myself relax with every brush of his hand. Together, we sat and drank and watched everyone talk about Wesley.

After it looked like everyone who wanted to had spoken, Fred stood up. "Oh, no," breathed Spike, reclaiming his arm and leaning forward.  
Fred opened her mouth a few times, but no words came out. A hard sob wracked her body and I stood, stepping toward her.

"No," she pointed at me. "No, I need to say this."

I nodded and backed off, keeping a close eye on her.

"Wes and I," her voice cracked. "We had just started. We were finally going to be happy." She sniffed and brought a handkerchief to her face, wiping away the tears and snot. "But now he's gone, and all we can do is try to remember him. That way he will always be with us. So, thank you, everyone, for sharing your stories, for remembering him." Fred turned to the picture of Wesley, touching it gently. "Goodbye, Wesley. I love you. My only regret is how long it took me to realize it." She sobbed and whispered again, "Goodbye."


	2. Part 2

Underneath the Grief - Part 2

When Fred glanced up at the room, she looked so lost that it broke my heart. I stepped forward again, holding an arm out to her. She stumbled toward me and I drew her into my embrace, letting her bury her face in my chest, wailing.

"It's okay," I whispered to her, "let it out." I directed her to the couch, sitting her down without letting go. Gunn took one of her hands and Lorne patted her shoulder. Everyone else was starting to look uncomfortable with the display of raw grief.

Then Spike, standing in the corner, leaning against the column between the living and dining rooms, started singing "Amazing Grace" in his rich tenor. By the third line, most everyone except me and Fred joined him. Lorne sang a counterpoint to the main melody which meant I noticed when he faltered. He had been looking at Spike, but his gaze whipped back around to me.

He knew. Stupid empath demon could have known as soon as Spike opened his mouth. I looked down, refusing to make eye contact with Lorne. Now was not the time to delve into the absurd vagaries of my sex life. I prayed that no one else noticed Lorne's reaction.

"Angel," Fred said to me quietly. "It's too much in here. Can I sleep now?"

"Sure, Fred. Whatever you need. Do you want me to take you home?"

"No, I'll stay here a while longer, I think. I just need a little sleep."

"No problem," I said, helping Fred to her feet and leading her back into Wesley's bedroom. "Is this okay?" I asked. "It's not too...?"

"It's perfect." Fred sank down into the bed, curling up with her back to me. She hugged a pillow and I sat next to her, petting her hair. I could hear the song ending and Lorne starting the group in on another song.

"It hurts so much."

"I know."

"It's like," she said, "I was dreaming Wes was safe right next to me. And every time I wake up, he's gone again. And every time, it breaks my heart a little more."

"You're strong, Fred," I whispered. "You'll get through this. You just have to keep breathing, keep living. It's what Wes wanted most of all."

She sniffed and hugged her pillow tighter and I felt more than heard Spike in the doorway. He sat down next to us, running a hand down my arm to my elbow. I nodded to him and turned my attention back to Fred. After a moment, Spike moved around to the other side of the bed, kneeling at the floor, facing her. He took one of her hands, patting it.

We sat in silence, mourning Wesley. And then Spike started singing. It was a hymn, old and sweet and solemn. He was certainly on a singing kick tonight. I joined him, singing quietly and probably very badly the words I remembered, humming the rest. When that song was done, he switched to one I didn't recognize. Eventually Fred's breathing slowed and she slept.

Spike nodded to me and I stood from the bed carefully so I wouldn't disturb her. Spike followed me from the room, slipping the door shut behind him.

"That was a good thing you did," I praised, catching his hand in mine. I knew there was this side of him, more so since he got his soul. But I hadn't seen much of it. Spike could be sweet, caring, loving.

"Yeah, I'm a bloody saint," he smiled sadly. "Let's get soused." Spike pulled me toward the main room, but dropped my hand before we got very far. Before anyone else could see us.

As I passed the kitchen, Lorne pulled me in. "Hey?" I asked, though I knew where this was going.

"Angel," he whispered angrily, "I didn't believe my ears until I caught the encore in the bedroom. You and Spike? What are you thinking, big guy?"  
I looked at him for a moment, mouth hanging open as I tried to think of what to say. "Uh...if you can't beat 'em, join 'em?"

"Well, yeah, but at the _groin_?" Lorne was incredulous, and I can't say I blame him. Spike had been sleeping in my bed for almost a week, and every morning I was surprised he was still there.

I shrugged.

"Angel cakes, do you know how badly this could turn out?"

"You mean besides the fact that we could easily end up killing each other? Why, Lorne? Did you see something?"

"Nothing too bad imminently, besides the big black doom I've been reading from everyone lately. But eventually, yeah. This will end badly."

"Well, then," I concluded fiercely, brushing past him, "I guess we'll have until eventually."

In the main room, Spike was talking to Harmony and Gunn in one corner and in another all the bookish people were discussing something intensely. I stopped at Wes' picture. "What do you think, Wes?" I asked his image in a whisper. "Do you think it's a bad idea me sleeping with Spike? Besides the fact he's a guy? He doesn't make me very happy, but just having someone at all makes this whole destiny thing a little easier. I miss having a good friend around all the time. You and I had that argument, Cordelia died, Fred's gone back to crazy (sorry, man), Gunn has his new lawyer brain, and Lorne is just Lorne. Spike and I were friends before, sort of. When we were both evil. And he's like me, he gets it. Well, as much as that pea brain of his could get it. Isn't it good to have someone, to share yourself with? Even if it doesn't make any sense?"  
Of course he couldn't answer me. My questions would just have to be answered in time. I sighed and grabbed another bottle of liquor before heading out onto the balcony. The night air was refreshing and I tried to take a moment to enjoy being alone. But I couldn't do it. Dammit, Spike had been around so much lately that I had grown used to having company. And speak of the devil, Spike stepped out onto the balcony, starting to hand me a drink, until he saw I had my own.

"You and the empath have a row?" He leaned against the balcony's railing, facing me.

"He knows about us," I admitted, turning and leaning next to Spike. "Thanks to your singing."

"Wasn't too thrilled? Didn't think the _flamboyant_ git would be the one to have a problem with us."

"It's not that. He thinks this will end badly."

"And what do you think?"

"That he's probably right, but it's not something I want to worry about now."

Spike waited a moment before clearing his throat and saying, "I'll have you know my brain is at least as big as a grapefruit, pet. Ask Harm, she's seen it." He winked and tapped his temple.

"You heard me." I thought I had only been spilling my guts to Wesley, but I guess I'm living proof that dead men do tell tales. Or vampires just have really good hearing.

Nodding slyly, he looked me over, studying me. He smiled at me as if he had learned a juicy secret. "You need me, don't you? As much as I need you, you need me to keep you here."

"What do you mean 'to keep me here'?"

"Here, in this fight. Just like in the Deeper Well, I'm your anchor, your link to the big guys upstairs." I certainly felt more grounded than I had in a long time. Since Cordelia had disappeared.

"Fuck me, are you my new Cordelia?"

"Well I've got the visions, I s'pose." He looked down at his chest. "Don't have the massive rack, though. That a problem for you, pet?"

"Definitely," I chuckled, "but somehow I think I'll survive." I took a few swallows from my bottle. "At least your mouth is as pretty as a girl's."

"You're just saying that 'cause you like what I do with it." I shivered at his low, low voice, saturated with suggestion.

"You really need me, too?" I asked. I guess the alcohol had me feeling more emotional than normal. More willing to pose these sorts of questions.

"Hey, it's always good to have at least one friend. Especially in our crazy world."

"Quite true."

Sometime later in the night, when Spike was off playing poker with the office drones, I found Gunn by himself in the kitchen. Leaning against the refrigerator, he looked up at me.

"Hey, Angel," he said quietly, looking around like he wanted something to do.

"How're the ribs?" I asked as I watched him cleaning up.

"Sore," he replied tersely.

"How's the ego?"

Gunn snorted, "Even worse."

"That's good," I replied, taking up a towel and drying the dishes as he washed them.

"Good? I know you're all Broody McGee all the time, man, but some of us aren't used to feeling this...guilty. I don't think I'll ever feel like a good person again."

"If you weren't a good person, you wouldn't feel this guilty, Gunn."

Roughly Gunn pushed a bowl at me, asking, "How do I make it stop? I mean, when I signed that paper, I knew there would be consequences. I just didn't think it'd be..."

"One of us?" I finished for him.

Gunn nodded. "How do I make up for this awful thing I've done?"

"You atone," I replied simply. "There are always chances to atone, Gunn. You just have to be on the lookout for them."


	3. Part 3

Underneath the Grief - Part 3

The party was winding down, quite a few hours after it began. I won a hundred bucks playing poker, Gunn had passed out under the kitchen table, and Angel was actually soused. Completely drunk off his ass. He and Lorne were in the corner, singing old show tunes. And Fred was still sleeping in Wesley's bed. Everyone else was gone.

The sun came up, so I went around shutting all the curtains. For a guy with a vampire as his best friend, Wes certainly hadn't bothered to invest in heavy drapery. Though I can't imagine Angel visited very often. He likes to stick close to home, in his own territory for the most part.

Noticing that the tunes had stopped, I looked to the other room to see Lorne passed out, slumping over on the couch next to Angel. I waved Angel into the kitchen and he came, weaving a bit as he stumbled toward me.

"Hey, Spike," he said, clapping me on the shoulder.

"Peaches, you are drunk off your gourd."

"Oh, good. I knew there was a reason I wasn't embarrassed to sing all those songs in front of everyone."

"Everyone is either gone or passed out, luv. You sure you weren't singing 'cause you're the biggest poof ever?"

"I don't know. It's possible." He looked so cute (goddammit) that I couldn't help but chuckle at him.

"What?" Angel gave me an angry look and pinned me against the kitchen counter with his hips, his arms planted on either side of mine. I thrilled and shuddered, leaning away to make him come to me. I laughed again softly as he followed me back, trying go kiss me. He growled at the perceived insult and bent one of my arms behind my back, grasping me to him and capturing my lips in the kiss I wouldn't let him have before. I think even though I don't breathe, I was panting with desire. "Why?" he asked me, growling in his dangerous voice.

"Why what, luv?"

"Why do you get off on this?" He bent my arm even further, a sharp pain, then an ache suffused my body. My cock stiffened, keenly hard already.

"Don' know, pet. Just how I'm wired, I guess. Bit of a head trip giving in to whatever your partner wants. I thought this was something you'd understand. You've lived long enough to see almost everything."

"Hmm," he agreed, loosing his hold on my arm. "I just wanted to ask, to make sure. Since this – _us_ – seems like a recurring situation." He kissed me, hard and sloppy and the alcohol on his tongue was almost enough to cover the taste of his soul. Almost. My mouth watered as I kissed him back, lips and teeth and tongues fighting for dominance.

He broke the kiss, resting his forehead on mine and looking into my eyes. "Did I promise you a reward earlier?"

"What? Oh, for keeping my trap shut? Yeah." I wondered what he was thinking of, when he gave me an evil grin and pulled me by the hand out of the kitchen and down the hall away from the main room. He approached the bedroom door, but I hissed at him. "Psst. Fred's still sleeping in there, luv."

"Right," he said, turning to face the door across the hall – the bathroom. "In here."

I chuckled. "What are you up to, Peaches?"

He pulled me into the tiny bathroom, just enough room for a toilet, sink and shower, and pushed me up against the door as he closed it. His body covered mine as he grabbed my throat, tilting my head up so he could kiss me again. "You'll see."

We kissed a few more times as Angel let his hands drift down from my throat, over my arms, my chest, my belly, my hips. I wanted him so much, it didn't seem possible. I knew I was quickly becoming addicted to his blood, so there was that factor. If I could have drunk only his blood for the rest of eternity, I would have. But we both needed something more…nutritional. Angel's blood may taste better even than human, but it was still dead, empty as far as my stomach was concerned. At least it didn't bring on the rage and blood lust like human blood. But it was one hell of an aphrodisiac.

The other factor making me want him was everything else he meant to me. His company, his body, his regard, I wanted all of it. I recognized this feeling in myself, soul or no soul. It wasn't just physical attraction, though there was plenty of that, God knows why. This feeling was a prelude to _love_. Bugger all.

I bit Angel's lip to get the taste of him, his blood all light and dark and salty in my mouth, which made him moan and grab my wrists, bringing them up and pinning them to the door above my head. If I could have devoured him whole without killing him and losing him in my bed, I would have. Instead, I submitted to him, turning my head to expose my neck. He groaned in appreciation, licking up my neck from clavicle to ear. If I still had a pulse, it would have been racing in excitement, fear and lust. It is no easy thing to expose one's neck to a vampire of Angel's caliber. It could very well be the last thing you do, even if you're immortal. But that's part of the fun, yeah?

Angel nibbled at my neck with blunt human teeth, appreciating the offer without taking me up on it. Then he dropped down to his knees in front of me, and I almost asked if he was too smashed to stand. But he looked up at me with a glint in his eye and a lopsided smirk as he undid my trousers. He got them halfway down my ass and pulled out my cock, which was standing straight up against my belly. Without further ado, Angel took me into his mouth, a little bit at a time as he rocked back and forth, tongue dancing around me.

"Oh, bloody hell, Angel," I whispered as he took me all the way in, all the way back. Though we'd been fucking all week, he hadn't yet done _this_ for me and I had begun to think he never would.

When he pulled back, he wrapped one of his hands around the base of my cock as he blew me. He used his tongue, lips and hands so well, and I was so engrossed in the pleasure of it, that I didn't notice when Angel vamped out. He put a flat hand on my stomach, pressing me back against the door and then there was a sharp, burning pain. I looked down to see him drawing his needle-sharp teeth up my length, bright red blood welling up from the scratches.

I growled down at Angel in pain and anger, struggling somewhat against his hands that held me pinned to the door. You just don't injure a man's privates like that! He simply rolled his eyes up to look at me as he took me back into his mouth, sucking. I felt him pulling my blood out through those scratches on my cock and suddenly the pain didn't seem like such an affront. He groaned, slipping back into his human face, and started working me more furiously. The pleasure mixed in with the pain, washing it away in a haze of lust.

"Angel," I whispered, somehow still aware there were others around and keeping my voice low enough that only he could hear it. "Oh, please. Please, please, please." If this was his idea of a reward, I resolved to be on my best behavior from now on.

I started thrusting into him quite unconsciously as my body tensed in wanting and need. I pressed a fist to my mouth, trying to muffle the words and mewlings and moans pouring from it. So close. How was this possible? How could this be so incredible? It was Angel, for God's sake. I looked down at him taking me in and out of his mouth and the sight of it sent me over the edge.

It took all my concentration to stay standing as I came in his mouth, pumping my dead seed into him. And that bastard sucked me even harder, drawing every drop of blood and cum that he could from me. It was so fucking hot, I could die again.

When he released me, I slid down the door slowly, pulling up my pants as best I could before my ass hit the ground. Angel sat back on his heels in front of me, smile hazy and eyes unfocused. What was he thinking? Was he just so drunk that he didn't know what he was doing? Was this purely my reward, or did he get something out of it as well? I hoped he wasn't going to throw this back in my face at some point. Angelus would never have done something so self-sacrificing, unless he thought he could torment you with it later.


	4. Part 4

Underneath the Grief - Part 4

Angel turned and squeezed himself between me and the shower, back against the door next to me. His head, resting back, rolled to face me and he smiled again. There was blood all around his mouth. My blood. I rubbed my thumb under his lip, trying to clean him up, but the blood was already drying. I licked my thumb and tried it again, successful this time. I showed Angel my thumb before slipping it in his mouth. He twirled his tongue around it, sucking a little. I shuddered in memory of how his mouth felt in other, naughtier places. He chuckled softly around my finger, biting it lightly with blunt teeth as I drew it from his mouth.

I leaned in and licked around his lips, cleaning him up and kissing him simultaneously. When I pulled back, wiping his mouth with my sleeve, I asked him, "How?"

"How what, Spike?"

"How are you so good at that?"

His smile disappeared and he turned from me, leaning back against the door and staring straight ahead. He sighed, and said softly, "Darla."

"Huh?" His explanation didn't make any sense. Unless there was something about Darla that I didn't know. But I had seen her naked a few times, and she appeared to be all woman.

"She would bring men to our bed."

"Oh." Less salacious than what I had been thinking, but still surprising.

"She liked to watch while I…" He paused, as if he were searching for the right word, and had found it, but didn't want to use it.

"Raped them?" I finished for him. There wasn't much Angelus wouldn't have done if it meant tormenting some soul.

Angel laughed humorlessly. "No," he cringed. "She would find the ones who thought they were having the best night of their lives. Darla would watch, and then she would join us. We would show him ecstasy all night until we drained him dry and killed him."

"Did she ever bring you women?"

"Of course. The victim didn't matter as much as the manner of the kill. Whoever it was, she wanted to watch me take them, pleasure them. She got off on it. The blood, with all that sex in it, tasted almost as sweet as when they're scared to death."

"How come I never knew about this?"

"It was a phase she went through. By the time you were made, she had gotten bored of the game."

"When I end up in hell, remind me to thank Darla."

"Doesn't it bother you? That what I can do comes with such a price?"

I scoffed. Angel was the master of the self-inflicted guilt trip, barely ever living in the moment. Except those few moments this past week we had been together. "Pet, everything you are came at a much higher price, dinnit? If I can deal with all the other things you've done, I can live with how you learned to suck a guy off. God knows I've my share of skeletons."

Angel looked, really looked at me, his eyes flashing back and forth to focus on either of mine. "Have you always been so insightful and wise?"

Holy shit. That was a complement that had nothing to do with how I look! It was something real, not a sarcastic jest. "Uh," I stammered, not sure how to react to him acting this way.

"You have been," he said, looking at me with his temple resting on his knees. "And I was so obsessed with what you were, I missed it."

"Yeah? I don't feel very wise. I'm impatient and obsessive and a right git."

"You can't be all those things?"

"Luv, how do 'wise' and 'impatient' mesh?" I reached a hand out to him, brushing my hand up and down the back of his neck to let him know the conversation wasn't bothering me. Much.

"Because you tell the truth about what you see, what people should do. You even know what you should do, but you don't often take your own advice. Either that or you purposely don't think things through."

"Huh."

"You were right about me and Buffy never being able to be friends."

I bristled a little at the mention of Buffy. "I said that?"

"Mmm. When you came back to Sunnydale after Dru left you. Called yourself love's bitch."

"Hah! That was then? I was _really_ drunk that month!"

Angel laughed and kissed me.

Angel's unexpected kindness got me thinking. I opened my mouth to ask him a question when someone rapped loudly on the door. Angel's eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet. I followed, fumbling to fasten my trousers.

"Just a sec," said Angel in a loud voice. Then quietly to me, he said, "Quick! What are we doing in here?"

"Pet, Lorne knows, and so does Harmony, would it be so bad if everyone else did?"

"Yes," he hissed, panic in his eyes. Well didn't that make a bloke feel special?

"Angel," called Fred from the hallway, "I really need to get in there."

I turned on the tap and cupping my hands, splashed some water all over Angel's front. He was still huffing indignantly when I opened the door. Fred was standing outside, hair and clothes rumpled with sleep and brow furrowed.

"Sorry, luv," I said, giving Fred my most innocent smile. "The great ponce here spilled blood all down his front, yeah? Been helping him get it out 'fore it sets."

"Alright," she drawled curiously as we passed her.

"What d'ya think, Captain Forehead?" I said loudly as we made our way back to the main room. "Has this farewell gone on long enough?"

Gunn sat up at the sound of my voice, bumping his head on the underside of the table and Lorne stopped snoring. Angel shot me a look that said 'thank you', and I pretended to be annoyed at him for making me lie. Truth is, I don't mind lying and I minded less doing it for him. But this secrecy was going to be a pain in the ass eventually.

We rounded up the troops and Fred brought the car around to the west side of the building so Angel and I could get in without fear of singeing. Angel was the last to leave Wes' apartment, saying, "Goodbye, Wes," so softly that I wasn't even sure I heard it while standing right next to him. I squeezed his shoulder in sympathy and we went back to Wolfram and Hart for another day of morally ambiguous work.


	5. Part 5

Underneath the Grief - Part 5

The day after Wesley's wake, I had scheduled a meeting to get everyone on my team caught up with my plans. The scheduled time came and passed and no one was there. I dialed the phone next to me, yelling, "Harmony, where is everyone?"

"Not here," she whined.

"Well I know that. If anyone were here, I wouldn't be alone. Why am I alone?"

"Settle down, big guy," said Spike, striding into the room carrying a briefcase. "I'm just a little late." He looked around the room at all the empty chairs. "Or maybe I'm early?" He sat down in the chair on my left.

"Why do you have a briefcase?"

"Well I wanted to be prepared for my first official meeting loosely associated with..." He tilted his head and looked at me, one eyebrow raised. "Tell me we aren't Scoobies."

"We don't really..."

"Yeah, knowing you, you'd probably want to call us something poncey, like Angel's Avengers. For the best we remain nameless."

"Huh," I said, rolling the name around in my head. Angel's Avengers. Why didn't I think if that? Spike took a beer can out of his briefcase and cracked it open. I gave him a withering look, but he just smiled at me defiantly.

"Where's the rest of the crew?" he asked, sipping his beer and flipping open the agenda in front of him.

"Not here," was the only answer I could give him. Oh, I had my suspicions, but no confirmations where anyone had gone. As usual lately, Spike was the one at my side, annoying the crap out of me.

"Hey, bullet points!" he exclaimed, reading the assignments I had set out for everyone. "Classy." I stood from the conference table and went over to the window. Wesley was dead and I wondered what horror was coming next.

"Reconnaissance? Angel, why do I always have to do recon?" I sighed and returned to the table. "Why can't I get the good missions, like save the girl? Or save the jewel with the girl? I can be bloody useful!"

"Outside the bedroom?" I asked under my breath, but giving Spike a smile to reassure him it was a joke.

"Oi!" he yelled, keeping a straight face besides the crinkles at the edges of his eyes. "That's harassment, I'll have you know. Harmony made me watch the video and everything. I'm supposed to report this as a hostile work environment."

"Go right ahead."

"I can be bloody useful here. I'm really good to have in a fight, which I proved when I kicked your ass. And I get visions now."

"Have you had any since Fred?"

He looked at me, defiance and grief coloring his face. "No," he said softly.

I hadn't meant to call his worth into question, but the hurt look on his face told me that I had. "Sorry," I mumbled. He nodded in acknowledgment.

"So," Spike said, leaning back in his chair and throwing an arm behind his head, "What would this meeting be about if everyone else was here?"

"It was supposed to be about how the Senior Partners are planning something and I'd like to know what it is. And I'd like to know more about what they are."

"Gee," he said sardonically, "it's too bad we don't know anyone with a direct link to these Senior Partners."

"Eve," I said, pointing at him in recognition of his idea. "We know where she's holed up hiding from them."

"Yeah, so I'm thinkin' we go over there and beat the info out of her." We stood up at the same time and Spike led the way from the conference room.

"You know," I clapped a hand on his back, "sometimes I really like how you think." I was looking forward to kissing him in the elevator when Gunn joined us, spoiling my plans.

"Where we headed?" he asked.

"Gonna go beat some info out of Eve," I said as we boarded the elevator.

"Good. I was hoping it would be something fun."

* * *

When we got to Eve's apartment, she was sitting in the living room, surrounded by the painted runes that keep the big guys from finding her. Seeing us, she jumped up. "What are you doing here?" She was a lot less scared this time, and a lot angrier.

Angel stepped up to her, close enough that she had to look up at him. The git likes using his height to his advantage when he's talking to me, as well. "Hello, Eve."

"No," she said, crossing her arms in front of her. "Whatever it is you want, no. I'm done helping you!"

Gunn and I both stepped forward, flanking Angel and making Eve take a step back. "You can do whatever you want to me, nothing could be worse than what I've been through."

"You'd be surprised," muttered Angel under his breath. I've seen what Angelus is capable of, and if you get Angel mad enough, Angelus tends to creep to the surface. I know; I've done it plenty of times on purpose, yeah? Eve should be more careful around him. Everyone thinks he's tamed, that his soul will keep them safe. I know, just like me, Angel works very hard not to do horrible things to people just because he can.

"I've been trapped here for weeks! Like a –"

I cut her off, "Rat? Snake? Beady little rat snake?"

Gunn chuckled.

"You haven't been trapped, Eve," mocked Angel. "You've been hiding behind all these pretty symbols." He motioned to the runes that marked every surface. "And you know that if you step outside, the Senior Partners would find you. I don't know what they have planned for you, Eve," Angel stepped even further toward her, "but I can make just one phone call and find out."

"You wouldn't," she shivered.

"Wanna test that out, Barbie?" asked Gunn in his tough-guy-from-the-streets voice.

All of a sudden the whole place started rumbling. Hey, I thought, my first California earthquake! But then the symbols started disappearing from the walls like the rumbling was washing them away, erasing them.

"You bastard!" cried Eve, dropping her hands to her sides in panic. "You did this!"

Angel looked grim, "It wasn't us."

"Angel, if they find me, I'll die! Please, I'll tell you anything."

Angel nodded toward the window and I strode over there, throwing it open. It was only a one story drop, so I jumped out. Then Angel lowered Gunn and Eve to me before jumping out after us. As we ran off, I heard a door slam open in the apartment. Bastards were too late to catch us!

We piled in Angel's car, me and Eve in the back, Gunn riding shotgun and Angel driving, of course. As he drove, Angel spoke to Gunn. "Is there any way to put Eve under my protection?"

"Uh," Gunn stammered, something I'd never seen him do. He shook his head before he said. "Yeah. There's precedent."

"What do I have to do?"

Gunn had already pulled his phone from a pocket. "I'll make a call."

As we drove, I stared at the back of Angel's head. I had tried to ask him a question earlier, in the bathroom before Fred interrupted us. And now I couldn't get it off my mind. What was I to Angel? How did he feel about me? All I knew was that he liked fooling around with me, and really, who wouldn't? He let me sleep in his bed, but he didn't want his friends to know about us. Maybe it wasn't me he was ashamed of. Maybe he didn't want his friends knowing he wasn't quite the straight arrow they all thought he was. But really, with his fashion sense, how could they not know?

What was he to me? For the longest time after Darla kicked him out, I had just every now and then wondered and worried where he had gone. He was an old friend and rival with whom I'd lost touch. I had Drucilla, and Angelus was Darla's problem. Then, when I found out he had been given his soul, he became a villainous traitor, going back on everything he had taught me. Lost to the humans and his mewling guilt. And when I fell in love with Buffy, just as with Dru, he was the one that got there first, the one she actually loved. And when I was brought back in LA, he was the one with the money and the fancy digs and the friends and the mission. But over the past few months, I had come to see that he didn't really have all those things, not in any way that mattered. He was almost as alone as I was.

We were the same really, outcasts either due to acts of fate or extreme stupidity, in my case. Driven to try and do the right thing by souls our very existences rejected. When we spoke after I'd had my hands reattached, the conversation had gotten me thinking about how we were both 'innocent' victims once, and it was then that I started to really put myself in his shoes. I don't think I can ever fully understand him, but I can understand a little.

So now, in the moment, what was he to me? He had always been family; grandfather, father, brother, cousin. With vampire families it's perfectly acceptable, even encouraged, to sleep with your sire, but the ties are always closer than just lover. Angel had always felt more like my sire. Dru had given me life after death, but Angelus had taught me what it meant to be a vampire. We had been uneasy friends, even. Especially after those first few years when he stopped using Drucilla to toy with me.

Is that what we were again? Friends? Except for the flirting and the shagging, there wasn't much romance between us. But I was growing more and more fond of sharing his company. And there was this wanting, this need for him to accept me. There was this need for him to want me. But did he? It was safer just to be friends. Friends, then.

Did friends wonder what it was like to suck on each other's earlobes? I eyed the back of Angel's neck through the gap between his seat and the headrest. I wondered if he liked to be bitten there, at the nape of the neck with blunt human teeth, like I did. All sorts of fun images filtered through my mind after those first few thoughts.

Just as I was getting to the good part of thinking about what I was going to do to Angel later, he yelled at me, "Spike, stop it!"

"Stop what, mate?"

"You know what," he growled, making a right turn more sharply than necessary.

"What if I don't want to?" I willfully imagined bending him over the hood of the fancy sports car we were riding in, pounding into his arse as hard as I could without tearing him to pieces.

"Please?"

Gunn turned in his seat, frowning. "What are you doing?"

I held up my hands in surrender. "Nothin', I swear." I tried to look innocent, but that never works out for me very well. Eve, sitting next to me, gave me a funny look. See, no one believes my innocent face. I shot back at her a gaze full of lustful promises. That one I'm much better at. She scoffed and edged away from me, pressing herself into the car door. My demon still likes it when they're afraid.

* * *

_PS. Niori, I hope you liked the send off I gave Wesley. Now will you forgive me for killing him? :-P_


	6. Part 6

Underneath the Grief - Part 6

We gathered in my office when we got back to Wolfram and Hart where Eve paced between Spike and me, while Gunn was still on the phone making calls. "I can't believe you brought me here," she said, crossing her arms as she walked toward me. "This is the first place they're going to look for me."

"You're under my protection now, Eve," I said, leaning back against the desk. "They can't touch you."

"That's what you think, Angel," she looked positively panicked.

"Oi! Didn't you say you'd have information for us, luv?" I felt an odd twinge of jealousy when Spike used that pet name. I know he does it all the time, that it doesn't mean anything. But he didn't start calling me that until after we kissed.

"Right, fine," she said unhappily. "What do you want to know?"

I looked at her for a moment before asking, "What are you?"

"What do you mean, boss? I'm just a liaison. I liaise."

"You're not just anything, Eve. You're not human, so what are you?"

She sighed, looking between me and Spike before she answered. "I'm a child of the Senior Partners. Created to do their bidding."

"You're an immortal," said Spike, like it was something he had been expecting to hear. Eve nodded, eyes wide.

I got up and crossed the room, standing over her. "What are they, Eve? What are the Senior Partners?"

"Do you really think I have access to that information, Angel?"

"If you are part of them, you should have some clues." She opened and closed her mouth soundlessly.

"Ugh, give it up, mate," Spike said. "She doesn't know anything."

"I might," Eve whined. "I might know a lot, but I don't have access to that information."

"So saving you from this thing the Senior Partners sent after you was all for nothing?"

"If you wanted to know about the Senior Partners, you should have asked Lindsey before you sent him away. He's devoted his life to the study of the Senior Partners. He'd know much more than I do."

"But the Senior Partners took him," I pointed out. "We have no way of knowing whether he's alive or not."

"Oh, he's alive," she said. "They'd want to torment him for what he did. Lindsey is in some awful, evil hell."

"Well that's just bloody useful," shouted Spike. Gunn walked into the room, shooting me a look as Spike continued. "Do you know how many different hell dimensions there are? It's like trying to find a needle in an infinite pile of needles."

"Why are we trying to find a hell dimension?" asked Gunn.

"We're trying to find Lindsey," I answered, frowning at Spike to get him to calm down, "so he can tell us what he knows about the Senior Partners, since Eve here doesn't know anything useful."

"I might be able to narrow down the list of possible needles," he said, using his spiffy new lawyer voice. "If the Senior Partners put him there, his location should be in Lindsey's file."

"Great," I said, following him to the office door. "You do that." He set off toward the elevator that goes to the records room, someplace he had been spending a lot of time lately. I looked over at Harmony's desk, glad she was sitting there smiling up at me. "Harmony?"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Could you come in here and keep an eye on Eve for me?"

"Sure." She got up from behind the desk, swishing past me and into the office in her ridiculous heels. I followed her into the room.

"Spike, can I talk to you upstairs for a minute?"

"Yeah," he said, shooting one last glance at Eve. I had a feeling he'd been toying with her and I can't say I blame him. Though most of what she'd done had been aimed at hurting me, and not him. Was he standing up for me, out of loyalty? To earn points for my good favor? But he loved pissing me off, didn't he? Confused and trying to focus on the conversation ahead, I followed him into the elevator, pressing the button for the penthouse.

As soon as the doors closed, Spike turned, sidling right up next to me. "What did you want to talk about, boss?" I don't know how he does it, but he made every word in that sentence sound dirty.

I brushed past him to exit the elevator, turning to face him after a few steps. "What were you doing in the car earlier? I almost crashed!"

He smiled and stalked up to me, hanging his head in an endearing manner and looking at me from the corners of his eyes. "I was thinkin' 'bout you, Peaches."

"Thinking what?" I was still incredulous and a little miffed, but damn it, the look on his face was working on me. Spike looked up at me and moved closer, reaching a hand up to my cheek.

"I was thinking about doing this," he tilted my face far enough down that he could kiss me, softly with a little tongue. "And this," Spike pulled me further so he could slip his lips and teeth over my earlobe. I sucked in a breath at this contact, which reached straight from my ear down my spinal chord and started a slow fire in my belly. Concerned at the amount of sway he had over me, I grabbed Spike's arms and growled lightly, backing him against the wall.

"You really have to learn how to control yourself," I said with a smile, pressing myself against him, getting the upper hand.

"Control is not something I do well, luv." He slipped his hands in my back pockets, pulling me closer. "That's more your area of expertise."

"I'm serious," I said, though I didn't pull back from him. "If you're this distracting all the time, one of us is gonna get killed."

"Spoilsport," Spike pouted. I captured his lip in a kiss, grinding against him because I really couldn't help myself.

"I'll make you a deal," I said. "Here, in this apartment, you can think whatever you want about me." He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows, telling me he already had something in mind. "But away from here, you have to keep the sex thoughts to a minimum. Since we've been sharing blood, your mood affects me a lot more than it used to. Not to mention the pheromones you put out. It was suffocating being in that car with you today."

"Good thing you don' need to breathe, pet."

I sighed at his hedging. "Do we have a deal?"

"Sure. Fine. No sexy thoughts outside the house." He pulled me into another kiss, this time all hard lips and passion. Spike's hands on my ass pulled me in, pressing us together as we kissed. "But you'll have to make it worth my while."

Behind us, I heard the elevator start moving again, called by someone down in my office. I whimpered and pulled away from Spike. "It'll have to be later," I told him, kissing him once more, quickly. "I promise."

He grunted in response and retreated to the kitchen as the elevator whirred again, coming back up. I stalked through the bedroom and to the bathroom beyond. Running the tap, I cupped my hands and splashed cold water over my face, trying to will my body to calm down before I dealt with whoever was coming up to the penthouse.

"Angel!" I heard Gunn's voice from the living room. "Where are ya?"

"Coming," I yelled, drying my face with one of the hideously expensive towels the company provided. I noticed, like I did every day, that the wide bathroom mirror was still in place. Though I had asked Harmony to arrange for its removal at least three times, and it still hung there, mocking me with its emptiness. I wondered if it was Harmony's incompetence responsible for the mirror's presence, or if Wolfram and Hart thought me too temporary to bother with it.

Gunn and Spike were waiting for me in the main room, Gunn eying one of the paintings and Spike sprawled out on the couch, sipping a mug of blood. "What've you got?" I asked Gunn.

He turned to face me. "I know where Lindsey is and how to get there."

"Alright, Charlie-boy!" cheered Spike. "Man with the brain comes through!"

He was being odd, overacting for Gunn's benefit. Trying to hide what we'd just been doing? Or trying to make Gunn suspect something so he would figure it out, because then everyone would know about us? About what was really going on up here when he spent the night. Suddenly embarrassed, I shot Spike a warning glance and a little gesture telling him to tone it down. He sneered at me in response as I turned to Gunn and asked, "Where are we going?"

"A Wolfram and Hart holding dimension." Gunn approached the elevator and the doors swept open. "C'mon. The transport we need is down in the motor pool."

I grabbed my jacket in one hand and Spike's arm in the other, hauling him up and toward the elevator. "How do we drive to another dimension? There isn't a portal involved, is there?"

"No portals," Gunn chuckled. "Just a car that knows how to get there."

"One of my cars?" I said, dismayed. "Which one?"


	7. Part 7

Underneath the Grief - Part 7

"The Camaro," said Charlie, and Angel got this pained look on his face, which I found quite entertaining.

"Not the Camero?" Angel winced when Gunn nodded. "Can't these people ever leave well enough alone?" His obsession with those cars was bordering on unhealthy. Hmm. I tucked that piece of info away for later.

We piled into the car, Angel shoving me in the back seat as always, the git. As soon as he put the keys in the ignition and started her, the car began rolling forward.

"Whoa!" yelled Angel, stomping on the break. But nothing happened, the car kept moving forward.

"Relax, man," said Gunn. "That's what's s'posed to happen."

The car drove itself out of the garage and through the dark city streets, heading north. "Isn't anyone else freaked out by the car that drives itself?" asked Angel, hovering his hands over the steering wheel as it turned.

"In your long-ass life," asked Gunn, "haven't you ever watched TV?"

"What? What does this have to do with TV?"

"You know," I said incredulous, "Kitt!"

"What kit? They have a kit to do this now?"

"No, you moron. It's the name of a car on TV. Talks, drives itself and fights crime."

"Egh. I still don't like this. Nothing good has come from TV since the sixties."

"Oh," I said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "I forgot that you spent the eighties and the better part of the nineties living in sewers and alleys. No wonder you missed out on one of the best shows of all time."

"Thanks so much for bringing that up, Spike."

"No thanks necessary, Peaches."

The car made another turn into a tunnel, and everything got darker. The lamps flew by, an almost continuous line of light. Then there was a bright light at the end of the tunnel and we shot out into the daylight. Looking around, I noticed there were big houses, all pretty much the same, lining the streets we now drove down. "Oh, great," I said. "The suburbs. The worst kind of hell."

The car stopped in front of one of the houses, which was identical to all the others on the block. "This must be where they're keepin' Lindsey," said Gunn. He opened the door, letting the sunlight stream into the car. Angel and I both flinched and yelled.

I wasn't burning! Why wasn't I burning?

"Guys," said Gunn, leaning over to look at us through the open door. "Different dimension. Sun's of the non-burning variety."

"Right," Angel recovered, "I knew that." It made me feel a little better that Angel looked as stupid as I felt.

We went up to the front door and Angel knocked. A few moments later, a pretty woman with long blonde hair answered the door.

"Can I help you?" She smiled at us warily.

"Uh," stammered Angel, clearly not expecting such a friendly or pretty greeting in hell. "Is Lindsey home?"

"Um," she said, looking back into the house. "Yeah, sure. Come on in." Her smile brightened as she led us to the living room at the front of the house. "Would anyone like something to drink? There's coffee."

We all declined and the woman retreated to the back of the house, presumably the kitchen. The living room was nice, very American Heartland in its decor. Though I had the strongest urge to just start smashing things, I had to remind myself that I was a good guy now, and do-gooders can't go around destroying people's houses. Even if the house was in a hell dimension and even if it did sound like a lot of fun.

Lindsey came out from the back of the house. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

Angel stepped toward him, curiously. "Lindsey? You don't remember us?"

"No, I've never met you before in my life. Who did you say you are?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm Angel, this is Spike and that's Gunn. We're here about Wolfram and Hart. Where you used to work, as a lawyer? None of this ringing a bell?"

"Sorry, man. The only lawyer I know is the one who fixes my speeding tickets for me. You've got the wrong guy."

Angel reached out to Lindsey. "Maybe this'll help you remember," he said as he ripped the amulet Lindsey was wearing from the man's neck. Lindsey immediately collapsed to one knee, catching himself with a hand on the arm of one of the overstuffed lounge chairs and gasping as he remembered.

"What?" he breathed, looking up at us. "Angel? What are you doing here?"

"We need some information, Lindsey. We're getting you outta here."

"There's no way out," he said, oddly nihilistic.

The woman came out from the back of the house, smiling as she lifted a really big gun from her side. "Oh, bollocks." I dove, taking Gunn down with me, as she started firing. We took shelter behind the sofa, Angel crashing down beside us. After a moment, we realized Lindsey was still standing stupidly in the line of fire. Angel grabbed him, pulling Lindsey behind the couch. He shoved the lawyer at me, saying, "Get him back to the car."

I nodded at the order, pushing the two humans ahead of me as Angel rushed the woman. I heard the sound of bullets hitting flesh and winced for Angel as Gunn, Lindsey, and I stumbled from the house, only to find that our car had disappeared from the street where we had left it. It felt strange walking around with the sun high overhead and no protection to speak of. Gunn looked up and down the street frantically looking for the Camaro.

"Give it up, Charlie," I yelled to him. He jogged back to us as an ice cream truck pulled up at breakneck speed. The driver pulled out a machine gun and started firing. Cursing, I pushed the humans back into the house, taking several bullets in the back to protect them. "Fucking ow!" I cried as I slammed the door behind us.

Inside, Angel was standing over the woman's body, her neck obviously broken. He looked up and I said, "No exit that way."

Angel's eyes widened as he looked past me, so I whipped around. A small blond boy had come into the room, wielding, surprise, surprise, a machine gun. I took a few more bullets as we got the humans behind another couch.

"How're we gonna get outta here?" asked Angel, grabbing Lindsey's arm like he was expecting the lawyer would try to get away.

"What about back there? The door in the kitchen," said Gunn, pointing. "There could be a way out through the cellar."

"No!" Lindsey insisted. "There's nothing good past that door."

"Sorry, mate," I said, readying myself for a mad dash to that door. "It's the only way out."

I nodded to Angel, who nodded back, pulling Lindsey with him toward the door. I pushed the couch we were hiding behind at the boy, knocking him off his feet as Gunn and I crossed the room.

The cellar was dark and creepy and as I descended the stairs I saw the shadowed outlines of a dungeon. A real dungeon, all medieval and meant for torturin'. "Somebody has fun down here," I mumbled sarcastically.

We spread out, looking for an exit. In the center of the room was a table that looked like a butcher's block, seeped with blood and everything.

Beside the table was a pile of organs, hearts on closer inspection. I picked one up, "I wonder who these belong to?"

"They're mine," spoke up Lindsey, his voice raspy with what I assumed was remembered pain. Realizing he might not want me handling the merchandise, I dropped the heart back with its fellows and it landed with a satisfyingly squishy plop. At the far side of the room was a furnace, its faceplate as big as a door. Angry yellow flames licked the slats in the plate. Crap, I knew there was going to be fire. It's not hell until you find the burning fires of torment.

From the darkness in the corner of the room, I heard a chain rattle and heavy footsteps approaching us. For purely tactical resions, I retreated to Angel's side, picking up a mace and making sure the humans were behind us. Angel armed himself with a heavy iron sword. The footsteps belonged to a heavy-looking executioner of a demon. His face was hidden behind a spiked and rusty helmet, but his chest was bare all gray skin and white scars.

Angel attacked the demon first, swinging his sword at the beast. It landed with a thud at the demon's shoulder, but the blow didn't seem to faze it one bit. The demon sent Angel flying as I moved in for my attack, which was no more successful than Angel's. Soon I was across the room, landing on a pile of chains and shackles. I jumped up again, flinging myself onto the creature's back. As Angel distracted the beast with a new weapon, I tried to get a good enough grip on the thing's neck so I could snap it. Unfortunately, the demon didn't have much of a neck, and what he did have was protected by that spiky helmet. The beast whipped me from his back by one of my ankles, throwing me into one of the stone walls.

Okay, that hurt! It took me a minute to recover and when I looked up, Angel wasn't doing much better. The demon had Angel's sword by the blade, trying to tug it away from him.

And then, all of a sudden, the demon let go and backed off, stepping back into the shadows. "What the--?" I started, but was cut off when the furnace faceplate opened, revealing a black abyss past the flames.

"That's the way out," said Angel, pointing. We both looked back to the humans. Lindsey made his way toward us, but Gunn was standing at the foot of the stairs, wearing Lindsey's amulet.

"No!" Angel yelled at him. "We're not leaving you here!"

"It's the only way," he said, standing his ground. "I have to atone for my part in Wesley's death. Angel, I have to stay."

"You can't be serious, Charlie-boy!" I said, taking a step toward him. "That brute will cut your heart out every day!"

"It's what I deserve. Get goin', the door will close when I forget."

I looked over at Angel in disbelief. His jaw was set, clenched, but he nodded and grabbed Lindsey by the arm, moving toward the furnace door.

"We can't do this, Angel," I cried, wondering what possible reasons he could have for leaving a friend _here_.

His face was twisted now into a mask of fury as he stalked toward me, grabbing me by the arm. "C'mon," he growled, pulling me with him.

"But, we can't leave a man behind!"

"Spike," said Gunn, "I knew this would happen. I knew there would be a price. If one goes, one has to stay."

"Bollocks!" I yelled, but I let Angel drag me to the furnace.

"There's no choice, Spike," he growled at me. "We have to leave now! I'm not fucking leaving_ you_ behind, too!"

Self-preservation winning out, I let Angel drag me through the door, which was starting to swing shut, and hazarded a glance back at Gunn before we left. He was already facing the stairs up into the house, already forgetting us. Angel, Lindsey, and I all jumped through the fire between that cellar and the black abyss beyond. And then we were falling for at least a minute, maybe longer. You don't think a minute is that long until you're in free-fall, fearing for your life. Then, it becomes infinite.

* * *

_A/N: I hope you're enjoying this one so far. I've got two more chapters after this one, and then I'll be moving on to the next episode 'Origin of the Lies', so keep an eye out for that one in a few days. I'm still working on the episode after that, but hopefully it will be done in time to follow directly after Origin. Please let me know what you think, I really love hearing from you! ~Ptera_


	8. Part 8

Underneath the Grief - Part 8

The landings are always the worst. Everything was black and then the world exploded into color and pain as we fell onto the hood of the Camero, magically back in the Wolfram and Hart garage. I bounced off the car's bonnet and onto the pavement below, Angel landing on top of me, his hard-as-rock head smacking me directly in the gut. "Oof," I breathed, pushing him off me and trying to stand up. It took three tries before I succeeded in being upright. Angel stood beside me, but Lindsey sat on the ground, clutching an ankle.

"Angel hair!" yelled Lorne, rushing over to us, Eve at his side. "We've got a major – hey, where's Gunn?"

Angel and I helped Lindsey up, slinging him between us and making our way to the lift. "He didn't come back with us," said Angel, answering Lorne's question.

"But," Lorne complained, "we never leave anyone behind."

Angel didn't answer and we continued helping Lindsey toward the lift. A loud booming came from the stairwell beside the lift, as if a very large animal were descending the stairs. Angel stopped cold.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you," said Lorne. "The thing that's after Eve – it's here. It's a very tall, very strong, very scary, well dressed man."

I scoffed, "That doesn't seem so –" The stairwell door flew off its hinges and halfway from where it used to hang to where we were standing. Lorne's description of the man was surprisingly accurate. He was tall and slightly stocky, with a high forehead and a strong, square jaw. As he stalked over to us, Eve hid behind Lorne and Lorne hid behind Angel.

"Damn," said Angel under his breath, "he is well dressed." I shot him a mock-jealous look that might have been less than mock.

The man reached into his blazer and I prepared for a fight, setting my stance and getting ready to drop Lindsey. But instead of a weapon, the man pulled a sheaf of paper and a pen from his pocket. "Hello, Eve," he said in a pleasant voice. He held the papers out to her, and she took them, sighing heavily. "Sign here," he said, pointing to the papers, "and here, and initial here." Eve signed the papers grudgingly.

The man held his hand out to Angel, saying, "Angel! I'm Marcus Hamilton. Eve here has just signed over her liaison duties to me."

Angel looked at Eve, "I thought you said if the Senior Partners caught up with you, you'd die!"

"And now someday she will," Hamilton said, happily. "I'm very pleased to be on the team and I look forward to integrating myself into the proceedings here in LA! Angel," he nodded, "Spike, Lorne. I'll see you all tomorrow!" And with that, Hamilton turned on his heel and went back the way he came, up the stairs. The rest of us simply stood agog for a few moments, wondering what had just happened.

* * *

We gathered up in my penthouse to talk to Lindsey and treat our wounds. Eve clung to her man like she would drown without him while I called Fred up, and we all sat around the living room, waiting for her to bring medical supplies. When she came into the room from the elevator, I could tell she had been crying again. I found her like this less and less lately, which I took as a good sign.

"Hi guys," she said, less than her cheery self, but without sobbing, so that was progress. "How did it go?"

I stood up, wincing at the pain from my wounds that hadn't yet healed. I took the supplies from her and set them down on the end table next to the big armchair I'd been sitting in. "Fred," I said softly, leading her by the hands to the side of the room. "We got Lindsey out, but Gunn had to stay behind."

"What?"

"Gunn knew we would have to trade for Lindsey and he volunteered to stay behind."

"In hell? Why would he do that?" She looked ready to cry again, the tears gathering at her lower eyelids, shimmering at the edge.

"It's just a holding dimension," I said, downplaying the horror of the cellar. "And he felt like it was his fault that Illyria was introduced here, since he was the one that got it out of customs. He wanted to atone."

"He couldn't go to church or somethin' like a normal person?" Fred was actually crying now, but it wasn't the gut-wrenching sobs I had feared.

"You have to take your chances where you can get them," I said philosophically, though I wasn't sure I agreed with my own words.

Suddenly, Fred stood up straighter, stopped crying and said emotionlessly, "I did not know the dark one was responsible for my freedom." Her accent was completely different, lowering her voice and making her seem more regal. Great. Illyria was still in there. "If I ever see him, I would like to thank him."

"Sorry, Illyria," I said impatiently. "That doesn't look very likely. If one leaves the holding dimension, one has to stay behind."

"Hmm. I shall think on it."

"Great, you do that. While you're thinking, would you let Fred out again? I need her to treat our wounds."

"Very well, half-breed." Illyria was getting easier and easier to convince she should let Fred stay in control.

Fred's head dropped and she raised it back up again, slowly. "Sorry about that," she blushed. "Illyria likes to share her opinion on occasion."

"Are you okay?" I asked, putting my hand on the underside of her forearm.

"No," she said, pouting. "But I will be. I'm mad at Charles for staying behind, but I was also mad at him for signing those papers. So I don't know how to feel."

I glanced over at Spike, who was helping Lorne organize the first aid supplies. He had taken off his coat and over shirt, standing in his bullet-torn tank top. A thrill ran up my throat at the sight of his bare arms. "I know what that's like."

"Let's get you guys patched up." Fred, wiping away her tears, smiled at me and motioned for me to join the rest of the group.

"Yeah, thanks."

Fred sat me down on the coffee table in the middle of the room, and I took my shirt off so she could see the wounds. I caught sight of Spike's raised eyebrow and had to stop myself from smiling back at him. Fred looked down at me, not nearly as impressed as Spike, at least not that showed on her face. Some of the bullets had worked their way out already, but a few were still lodged in my chest. If I had been human, with a functioning heart and lungs, I would have been dead twice over. As it was, I was just in pain, bleeding a little bit.

"Okay," said Fred, snapping on a pair of gloves and picking up a pair of forceps. Something about that image gave me a nasty sense of déjà vu. I shrugged it off as Fred continued, "Let's get those pesky bullets out." I almost laughed. It sounded like she was inspecting a sliver in my finger rather than half a dozen bullets in my torso.

When she got them all out, Fred taped gauze over the worst of the wounds, and I slipped into the bedroom, grabbing a clean shirt. I found a smallish one of mine for Spike and took it out to him. No one needed to know that most of his clothes were already here. Fred was prying the last bullet from his back as I handed him the shirt. He took it and nodded with a grateful smile.

Carefully sitting down on an ottoman, I faced Eve and Lindsey. "Alright, Lindsey," I said, "we got you out of there. Now tell us what you know about the Senior Partners."

"What's to know?" he said from his lounge on my couch. "The Senior Partners are big, Angel. Bigger than you could possibly imagine. And this thing they've got you in…"

"This Apocalypse?" I asked, scoffing. "How is this one different from the one last year, or the year before?"

"This isn't _an_ apocalypse, Angel. This is _the_ Apocalypse, and it's already started." At my surprised look he scoffed, saying, "Just look around! I mean, how could you not have noticed? You're the big shot who's supposed to land on one side or the other, here. And I suppose we already know where the Senior Partners would_ like_ you to land."

"So giving me Wolfram and Hart, this is just a distraction, to keep us from seeing what's going on?"

"Bingo, big guy. Keep you busy while the world falls down around your ears."

"So all the deaths, all the compromises?"

"Only the beginning."

Silence suffocated the room as I looked at each of my remaining people in turn. Lorne looked scared out of his loud blue blazer. Fred was picking at her hands, which she held demurely in her lap. And Spike was looking back at me, like I was going to say something that would make it all better. Something that would stop the Apocalypse, the final battle, the end of the world. I had nothing.

These jobs, this life. It wasn't the first mistake, but it was the biggest. And the Senior Partners had forced me into it by dangling a new life for my son in front of me. Exactly the right carrot to get me where they wanted me. Distracted.

"C'mon Angel, you _had_ to know this was coming." Lindsey prodded me with his words, almost gleefully. No, _entirely_ gleefully.

"I knew. I just didn't think it would come so soon." Two hundred and fifty years and it wasn't enough. Not nearly.

"The world may be about to end," he said, "but that doesn't mean you can't still have a say in how everything ends up."

"What d'you mean, Lindsey?"

"You're a champion, Angel. You don't fight for the world the way it is, you fight for how it should be."

"How it should be. Right." What if I couldn't tell anymore how it should be? What if I didn't know?


	9. Part 9

Underneath the Grief - Part 9

When everyone else left my penthouse, Spike stayed behind with me. Of course. He'd practically been living here the past week or so, his clothes strewn all over the bedroom floor, his Weetabix crumbled on the kitchen counter, his empty blood mugs here and there around the apartment.

I sank into the couch carefully, the bullet wounds still healing and tight, and put my head in my hands, shutting out the lamplight. "Gunn stayed behind," I whispered, finally taking the time to process.

"That he did," Spike said softly, sinking down beside me with a wince. He ran his hand lightly over my back, petting me gently.

"Wes and Cordy are dead, Fred is crazy more often than not these days, and now Gunn is trapped in a hell dimension. Getting his heart cut out every day." My chest tightened with the grief and I felt cold tears brimming at my eyes. I sighed shakily, trying to catch a breath I didn't need.

"Mmm," Spike hummed in sympathy. He hadn't wanted to leave Gunn behind, and I was the one who insisted we leave him. Now I was regretting having to come to that decision, and he was being supportive. It was almost too much.

"And here I am with_ you_," I laughed mirthlessly. "My new connection to the Powers, the man who tried to kill me a few months ago."

"But I didn't do it," he whispered, grabbing my chin and turning me to face him. "And not just because Buffy would have staked me." Spike ran his thumb back and forth over my cheek.

"Why, then?"

"Cause I knew this whole evil law firm is only temporary. The world needs us, Angel, more than ever with the Apocalypse goin' on right under our noses."

"It's…" I stumbled over my words as the tears escaped my eyes, trailing down my face and catching in the space between Spike's hand and my chin. "It's too much, Spike. The final Apocalypse, and I'm supposed to influence how it turns out?"

"Seems so, luv."

"How do we know it's not your place?" I pulled back from him, and Spike let his hand drop. "You've got your soul now; you've got the visions from the good guys. You're the champion everyone wants, not me."

"Oh, no," he said, standing up and pointing at me. "You don't get to give up. You were here first, it's _your_ deal. I don't want it."

I wiped the tears from my face as I stood to face him. "You seemed more than ready to take my destiny from me at that opera house. You staked me!" My voice had risen to a loud yell.

"Well that was before, wannit?" Spike's shout was just as loud as he stepped forward, getting his face right up in mine.

"Before what? Before your damned visions?"

"Before you _saw_ me!" He still looked furious, but his voice had cracked a bit with emotion.

Confused, I stepped back. My voice lost some of its volume as I asked, "What do you mean, Spike?"

"Then," he said quietly, "before, you didn't see who I am. Before, you only saw who I used to be. You could only see the evil creature you helped create. You could only see the man Buffy slept with. The vampire with a soul who wasn't you."

"And now? What do you think I see?"

"I think you see me as I am. An equal, a champion. A lonely wanker with really great hair and a penchant for trouble." Spike raised an eyebrow. "We're really not all that different."

"Ha! Now I think you're the one seeing things that aren't true. We're _nothing_ alike." I realized after I had spoken that my voice held more animosity than I had meant it to, if the stricken look on Spike's face was any indication.

Spike took a moment, sighing, before he stepped closer to me. "Yeah," he said in a defeat that seemed to come too easily. "Maybe you're right. But is it really so bad, having me here?"

Crap. He could be so sensitive sometimes. "No," I admitted, sitting back down. "It's not that bad."

"Angel?" he asked, keeling down in front of me and putting a hand on my knee. "You know I'm here in this fight with you?" Looking up and searching my face, he waited for my nod before continuing, "So I have to ask, do you even like me? Because I can't go through that again."

"Go through what?"

"Sleeping with someone who doesn't like me. Letting you use me 'cause I'm convenient. Before I got my soul, what Buffy and I had was no good for either of us."

I hate it when he talks about Buffy, or I used to anyway. Now his words upset me more because he obviously felt so unappreciated. "Spike," I covered his hand with mine, noticing again the calming effect that came with any skin-on-skin contact between us. "Yeah, most of the time I like you. Even when I hated you, I liked you a little. I like who you are and I like having you around. I like not feeling so depressed and frustrated all the time."

"And what are we doing?"

"We're fighting, talking."

"No, you git. I mean us, together. What is this?"

"Do we have to talk about this now?" I stood up and walked around him, retreating to the middle of the room. All the Apocalypse talk with Lindsey, and Spike wanted to know about 'us'. In a few weeks, it probably wouldn't matter anymore.

"Yeah, I wanna talk about this now." He rose to face me, stepping closer but staying out of arm's reach.

"Ugh," I said turning from him. I didn't want to figure out what Spike meant to me. Especially since I had a feeling he meant more to me than I was ready to deal with. I just wanted to leave this conversation for another day and get some sleep. "You're such a woman sometimes."

"Is that why you're fucking me?" Spike yelled. "Because I remind you of a woman?"

Damn it. If I didn't fix this, Spike would leave along with Cordy and Wesley and Buffy. He promised to stay in the fight, but he wouldn't follow me around all the time. He wouldn't keep me company if I drove him away, and that possibility scared me more than I thought it would. Mouth dry, I stepped closer to him, raising a hand toward his arm. "Shit, Spike. That's not what I meant."

He batted my hand away. "What did you mean, then, Angel?"

I bypassed the question, knowing no good could come of the answer. "I'm fucking you because you're not a woman. You don't remind me of _her_."

Spike tilted his head, intense blue eyes scrutinizing me. "Of Buffy."

"Right. You don't remind me of Buffy, or Cordelia, or Darla." He let me step closer and put a hand to his face, tracing his cheekbone, his jawbone. "You're just you."

His hand covered mine, grasping my fingers. "And what are we doing?"

"I don't know," I said softly, letting our hands fall from his face and wrapping my fingers around his. "We can keep each other company, anyway. Relax, work off some of this frustration, try to do some good."

"So we're what? Lovers?"

"I don't know about that," I lied with a smile, "but we're friends anyway, right?"

"Yeah," he said, chuckling. "Friends who shag each other."

"Right." I leaned forward to kiss him. This relationship we had might be weird, but it was the best thing I had going for me. When our lips met, I threaded my arms around his neck, resting them on his shoulders. Through his lips and his tongue I could taste his blood, his soul, and I felt like he was more than a friend. He felt more like family, like a lover, like the best thing that had happened to me in a long, long time, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

As the kiss broke, Spike leaned back and said, "Fuck buddies?"

I laughed. "Must you be so crude?"

He scoffed, keeping a straight face as he asked, "Hi, I'm Spike, have we met?"

"Well since your hand is on my ass, I should hope so!"

He laughed sharply, and then winced. "Ugh. I think I'm a bit worse for wear tonight, Peaches."

"I know what you mean," I said, releasing him and leading the way into the bedroom. I changed into sweatpants carefully, trying not to tear the new skin that was already growing over the bullet wounds in my chest. Spike eased himself down on the bed, lying on top of the covers with his clothes still on.

"Do you need some help getting undressed?"

"Oh, baby," he crooned sarcastically. Spike pulled on the hem of his shirt, but he didn't get very far before he said. "Ow. Alright, pet. I lied. Give a bloke a hand, would ya?"

"Can you sit up?" I circled the bed coming to stand next to him as Spike righted himself. Gently, I pulled his shirt up and over his head, then over his arms, which he kept straight up to avoid stretching the skin on his back. "Pants, too?"

"Please," he nodded, laying back and sucking his cheeks in while giving me a look. He knows how devastating he looks when he does that, I'm sure of it.

"Knock it off," I scolded, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.

"What?"

I just raised my eyebrows at him as I pulled the pants off, fully exposing him. He smiled back at me, trying to start something. In response, I returned to my side of the bed, crawling under the covers and turning my back on him. I turned off the light and said, "Goodnight, Spike."

I felt him rustle the covers, joining me under them. Thankfully he kept his hands to himself, though he did let his shoulder and hips touch my back, his face just inches from the back of my neck. It's nice having someone again, but Spike could eat, sleep, and breathe sex if you let him. And with everything that had happened today, I wasn't about to let him. I was so exhausted that I actually had an impressively easy time putting Gunn and the Apocalypse out of my mind. Another night, either of those problems would keep me awake from dawn until dusk.

As it was, a few minutes later I was almost asleep, when Spike spoke softly, "Angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Whatever happened to that werewolf chick you were seeing?"

Our conversation must have dredged up something for him. Comparing himself to all my previous romantic partners, I supposed. "Why? Are you jealous?"

"A bit. She was hot!" He rumbled in appreciation of Nina's attractiveness.

I snorted a chuckle. "She was."

"But she's not around anymore?" Spike was joking around with me, but he was still acting insecure. I did say we were just friends, and I supposed wasn't the most secure of titles. I just wasn't ready to call him more.

"No," I said resolutely, trying to comfort him.

"What happened?"

I'd thought a lot about what had happened between Nina and me. Wesley said that the chances of me finding perfect happiness with anyone were almost infinitely small. But the more I got to know her, and the more I liked her… "I liked her too much," I told Spike, turning to face him in the dark.

"Ah," he said, "the curse."

"Yup." I know those gypsies had good reasons for why they did what they did, but that happiness clause had ruined so many things for me.

"And I don't make you happy?" Man, Spike liked to play the devil-may-care rebel with no cares and no ties, but he was awfully sensitive when you got to know him.

I pulled him closer, onto his side so he faced me, running my hand up and down his upper arm. "Just not _perfectly_ happy," I reassured him. "You don't quite have the right physical attributes."

"Hey! I'll have you know I'm quite adequate."

I laughed. "No, you moron. I meant you're not a woman." I kissed him. "And yes, you're quite adequate."

"You're damn right. Don't you forget it, pet."

Chuckling, I shifted him closer and whispered, "I won't." I knew he was angry I wanted to keep us a secret and he probably wasn't too thrilled I'd told him we were just friends, but if I wanted to keep anything to myself and away from the Senior Partners, it was how I was starting to feel about Spike. It was just safer if no one knew. Including him.

* * *

_  
A/N: And that's the end of this installment! Sorry there wasn't more smut there at the end (looking at you, Happyangsty), but I just didn't think the story called for it. I'm super proud of those last few lines (inspired by certain reader comments, so thanks!), and I thought they summed up this episode fairly well. I'm continuing to follow the end of season 5, so next up is an episode entitled 'Origin of the Lies' so keep an eye out for that story tomorrow. Thanks again for reading, and please review if you get a chance!_

_~Ptera  
_


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